Chuck vs the Pain
by loupalone
Summary: Set immediately after "vs the Ring." Chuck learns all too quickly that emotional pain is not the only kind he will need to deal with after uploading the new Intersect.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note- Hi again. I know, it's been a while since I've shown my face around these parts (although I have shown up on the boards.) But I, like most of you, was ridiculously inspired by that season finale. SO much. So much so, even, that it brought me back here. While this is not as introspective as _Inside of Love_, I did hope for the same weight. This is set immediately after the "To Be Continued..." card was thrown at us and while I do have plans to expand this later (I know, gasp!), I only have the next two chapters planned. Hopefully I'll figure out an overarching plot for the rest of this piece, but for now enjoy this. Also, I don't want to go pandering for reviews, but any criticism or opinions would be greatly appreciated, since I'm not quite sure where, in the big picture type of things, I'm going with this. Or just enjoy it! I hope you do. _

_Also, we all know, I don't own Chuck, or else I would not be sitting in the limbo of knowing whether or not it truly is coming back. _

**Chuck vs. the Pain**

This was different. So very, scarily different. Gone was the light feeling from days ago. He would almost venture to say he felt heavier. His muscles burned with the adrenaline that coursed through them, pumped by his heart, instructed by his brain. His brain. An organ he had just regained some control over, only to be lost over one decision. One. Huge. Decision. And now he felt as if he had even less control than he'd had in the past two years. Now, the instructions that his brain sent his body - send adrenaline here, keeping heart pumping, stronger here, faster here - were new and scary.

All at once, as he stood there, taking in Sarah and Casey's shocked expressions- Sarah's lined with a confusion and a hurt that he could barely discern, a dull ache developed behind his eyes. The haze of the flash still clouded his head, feeling as if a fog was thinning through his thoughts. But an unfamiliar feeling found his limbs, tiny twitches in his arms and legs from the exertion. It would be minutes before the pain set in, any minute now his muscles would scream at him, threatening rebellion. He didn't want to think of just what havoc he had wreaked on his own body, thankful for the chemicals still pumped by his heart and brain to keep him moving and the shock at bay.

"Are you going to uncuff us or what, superboy," Casey growls and Chuck looks back at them, eyes widening before he scrambles to one of the unconscious agents. He stops, standing over one of the men who for all intents and purposes could have been mistaken for simply sleeping. He stares before he kneels, feeling that unfamiliar sensation invade him again. There was a hidden strength there, more than the adrenaline and the fog of the new Intersect flash and it lingered, beneath the sinews of muscle, the sponge of his marrow and the expanse of skin cells and pores. Chuck takes a deep, steady breath as he puts a name to this new feeling before searching through the pockets of his fallen enemy for keys.

Powerful. Capable of anything.

And all at once, it terrified him.

Long fingers grasp a set of keys and he pulls them from the agent's pocket, once again long limbs tangling upwards to bring him to his handlers. Examining the lock on each set of cuffs, he finds the corresponding key (by his own talents or the Intersect's he couldn't be sure) and unlocks Sarah's first, tossing them to the far end of the room before unlocking Casey's as well.

Neither agent moved toward him.

"Say something." He pants, looking between them both, brown eyes wide. "Please."

Sarah takes a tentative step forward, hand outstretched as if he were an alien she was afraid to touch. He doesn't move. He doesn't know what to do, what new position this put their new relationship in.

"What happened to that 'I just want a normal life' garbage?" Casey sneers, already moving about the room, making sure the agents were still out, massaging his aching wrists. Chuck swallows hard, following the older man's movements with his eyes, as it was becoming increasingly hard to move his own limbs.

"I realized," He began, casting a hesitant glance to Sarah, who continued to look at him as if he'd just killed her puppy. "That's not me anymore."

Casey grunts, the number 5 half grunt half chuckle, shaking his head as he moved towards the door. "I could've told you that, dumbass."

"How do you feel?" Sarah's voice came out soft, but unwavering. She was struggling, fighting every impulse to strip him and search him for wounds, anything. But Chuck knew that voice. That was Agent Sarah, wrangling control from Sarah the Mama Bear. Sarah the Lover. Chuck looked at his hands, palms red and fingers throbbing from the fight, as if at any moment blue electricity would start crackling around them, or something equally as cool and ridiculous. And terrifying. As if they would answer all the questions he knew he would have as soon as this fog lifted, as soon as he regained control.

"Fine right now, but that could be the adrenaline talking." There was a halfhearted laugh and Sarah's face grew a tiny bit more concerned. Slowly, the pain began to escalate, soreness enveloping his limbs and he winced as he lifted an arm to stretch it, or something. Sarah only nodded before Casey came back over, scowling as if he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to be angry at the younger man or not. Chuck couldn't be sure if the older man should be angry or not, either, so that was slightly more reassuring.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," says Casey, no gentleness in his voice. It's a sharp contrast to the softness of Sarah and she ducks her head, turning towards the door. She stops, briefly, before she remembers the events earlier, and rushes out, leaving a confused Chuck Bartowski and John Casey in her wake. It was then that it occurred to Chuck where she was going, and he barely breathes Bryce's name before following suit.

He finds Sarah knelt next to Bryce's body just outside the room. She is kneeling next to him and even now, even after he saw the other man die, he is struck by how pale his skin looks. The red blossom of blood on his shirt is in stark contrast to the white room he'd just been in and Chuck has to blink several times to adjust his eyesight. Sarah's fingers ghost over Bryce, afraid to touch once again. Or maybe her walls had become so strong, that they'd actually encompassed her, unable to make any physical contact, crossing the barrier around her. There's a brief moment, when Chuck swallows air as he watches her, and she hesitates before putting a hand on his chest, other hand moving to shut his eyes. There is an ache they both feel, as he relives the moment not five minutes ago, watching Bryce breathe in that final way, pleading him to stay. He could fight this.

He is thankful Sarah wasn't there.

The doors to the Intersect room hiss shut and Casey comes up next to Chuck, as Sarah still kneels next to Bryce. "A team is coming to clean up the damage and detain the traitors. You," He jabbed the air in Chuck's direction, "Need to talk to the medic team when they get here, too. Your body was not, iis not/i, ready for the strain you just put on it."

Chuck only nods, wincing at the pain it gives him. Casey eyes them both before walking off, presumably to wait for the team. Sarah doesn't allow herself the tears she knows she should be crying, falling from her knees to a sitting position. Chuck doesn't hesitate this time, as he kneels next to Sarah. Neither of them say anything, as they both mourn their friend, their enemy, their adversary. He sits and slowly, pulls Sarah towards him. She doesn't fight, doesn't struggle against his grip, until she finally collapses against his chest. There are no shudders of sobs when he feels the tears seep into the dress shirt from the wedding. There is only Sarah, crying in his arms as he presses his nose to her hair, eyes shut tightly as tears prick his own eyelids. This is heavier, hurts more, hurts deeper, than it had the first time he'd found out that Bryce was dead. That time it was more shocking that hurtful. For once Chuck was glad for the physical pain he was feeling. It guarded him from the pain emanating from his heart.

Sarah lifts her head and wipes furiously at her eyes, angry at them for betraying her. Chuck doesn't falter in his hold on her. Immediately she shifts in his arms and sighs heavily, letting out the sobs she refused to release with one long breath. It is now that he becomes painfully aware of the ache in his arms, the pain in his legs, the throbbing of his head. He's used to the headache, they were commonplace after a particularly jarring flash, but the physical pain is new. He winces as Sarah pulls away from him, sucking in breath sharply as he tries to move his arms. It is now that the concern finds Sarah's face once more and she gently lifts his arms from around her, giving her space to inspect him.

"Chuck. Tell me what hurts." Her voice is detached, almost clinical as she asks. There are no traces of the break she just suffered. Chuck keeps his eyes closed, breathing deeply to try and alleviate the pain, the pressure throbbing in his skull.

"Um, how about everything." He gives and Sarah takes his arm, pulling his suit jacket off as carefully as she can. She can feel the muscles twitching from exertion beneath her fingers, tensing and relaxing. "Breathe, Chuck. Deeply, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Just focus on breathing, okay?" She tells him and he nods.

Her fingers move gently, working through the muscles in his arms, light touches and movements to massage them into relaxation. Her fingers are precise, finding pressure points to alleviate pain, combing through to relax where they are tense. Chuck wonders briefly how many times she did this for Bryce after missions and the thought makes the lump in his throat grow harder. He focuses on breathing, just as she described, bringing the air deep into his body (God, even his stomach burned), holding it, and then letting it out completely. He could focus on this, could focus on the air and not the pain, not the throbbing or burning or tightening or Sarah's fingers working their way up his shoulder. Just as she could focus on him, focus on fixing this. She knew how to fix him, at least fix this. At least until they could get him properly examined.

At least until the heavy footfalls of agents led by Casey breaks them both from their bubbles. Sarah stops massaging Chuck's shoulder and his eyes immediately shoot open as Casey ignores them, directing the team to be on their guard, in case the others had woken up as he opens the door to the room. Chuck tries to move, scoot away from Bryce's body, but the very idea of the movement makes him wince, his eyes shutting tightly and jaw clenching at the pain. Sarah rises to her feet as two men move Bryce away, assessing him silently before loading him into a black body bag. A small whimper escapes from Sarah at the sight before she looks down and sees Chuck still seated.

"Where's the medic team?" She asks sharply, as three men come in with a stretcher.

"Is that really necessary?" Chuck asks, turning to look up at Sarah who scowls down at him. The quiet is broken as agents move in and out of the hall, bringing the Ring agents from the intersect room, cuffed and detained, and the two medical agents kneel in front of Chuck.

"Can you move, Agent Carmichael?" One asks and Chuck lets out a long, tired breath at the pseudonym, attempting to move his legs only to be met with the sharp pain in his right leg and left knee. Puffing out his cheeks, he shakes his head, frustrated at the very idea that despite this new Intersect making him stronger better faster, it still incapacitated him to the point of embarrassing weakness. The agents nod to each other, quickly explaining they would be very careful with him getting him onto the stretcher. He only yelps in reply as one takes his legs and the other fits hands beneath his arms and they both lift, setting him down on the stretcher. Sarah is not far behind and not a second passes before she is at Chuck's side, hand grasping his.

"He has a likely rotator cuff injury, there is some slight swelling around his right shoulder, along with a few more pulled muscles, I'd say groin or hamstring, with a possible hyperextension." Once again Sarah's voice is clean, direct and unattached as she tells the medics of Chuck's injuries. He groans, keeping his eyes shut as they roll him outside to the waiting ambulance.

"Really? An ambulance? I'm not dying. Nothing is even broken. Just severely... pulled." He manages to sigh out and now it's not Sarah's hands moving over him with the care that only Sarah can provide, it's one of the paramedics, unbuttoning his dress shirt to assess the damage. They are careful but not caring, precise and practiced in their movements and Chuck knows this feeling well. Ellie had practiced on him dozens of time during medical school. Sarah stands to the side, watching with a careful eye as Chuck inhales sharply and winces at every touch, every soft poke and prod. They bandage his shoulder, an ice pack beneath a wrapping of Ace bandage, and provide the only diagnosis they can. Rest, ice, ibuprofen when you get home. You're lucky these are the worst of your injuries. He can see their words in Sarah's eyes as he catches them, the glassy blue he sees next to the open ambulance.

Another one loads Bryce away and drives off.

With the last of the enemy agents detained, the armored car carrying them rolls away. Casey meets them outside the building and lets out a long huff of air. Sarah and Chuck are silent, with Chuck leaning halfheartedly against Sarah as his legs are barely speaking to him.

"Let's get the nerd home. We have to let Beckman know about this in the morning." Casey says and Sarah nods, wrapping her arm around Chuck's middle, and he around her shoulders. Casey casts a glance at the duo and snorts, walking ahead of them and muttering something. Sarah doesn't catch it, but she's almost positive he had just muttered, "Man up, Bartowski."

That simple phrase reassures her that no matter what changes in Chuck's head, he'll still be hers. So she grips him a little tighter, and helps him to the waiting Crown Vic, where he falls asleep, head in her lap in the back seat on the way back to Echo Park.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note - So, I apologize for this taking so long. I hadn't really decided if I wanted to make this a multi-chapter piece until I really got into this chapter, and even then, it took me twice as long to get it just where I liked it. I should warn you all right now that I am not one of those writers that can churn out a chapter a week. I'm a perfectionist and even then, I'm not entirely happy with what gets published here when I finally do submit it. So if you're going to stick with me, I'm apologizing right now. It's going to take a while, champs. But we're Chuck fans, we know how to wait._

_That being said, this chapter did take me forever to write and yet I'm still not sure I ended it where I should've. I really wanted to include what will be the next chapter, into this one, but this chapter was getting long anyway and would've dragged on FOREVER if I had included what I wanted. Was that vague enough for you? I hope so. Either way, I'm just glad to be writing in a somewhat normal capacity these days so without further ado, the chapter. _

_As always, I don't own "Chuck." I missed the auction when Subway snapped it up, natch. _

**Chuck vs. the Pain **

**Chapter Two**

The first feeling is fire. And then tearing ripping searing pain. As if someone had stabbed him and slowly dragged the knife through his skin, tearing open every limb to reveal the muscles and bones inside. He doesn't dare to move, to untangle the sheets from around him, to shift from his position on the bed. His shoulder burns, both hot and cold, and the foggy memories of an ice pack being attached the night before come to his eyes. A rotator cuff injury, she'd said, and he remembers her fingers moving across his back and up to his shoulders, kneading the skin like dough.

The pain in his body doesn't even compare to the pain in his head. This was not throbbing, this was the same fiery feeling, as if his very brain were burning on a grill. Set aflame by the new information being hidden.

Chuck winces as his eyes flutter open, or threaten to, until he shuts them tightly against the bright, burning rays of the sun. Even mere thought brings tears of pain to his eyes. He breathes slowly, deeply, bringing air into his screaming abdomen, as deep as it will go, and letting it out slowly.

He feels the mattress beneath him shift.

Slowly, carefully, he tries to take stock of his surroundings, despite his eyes remaining firmly shut. He is on his back, on a bed (his own bed, he remembers) and he can feel the heat of skin next to him. Someone is next to him. Someone is brushing the hair from his forehead, long fingers sweeping curls away, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Sarah is doing these things, and as soon as he breathes in once more, her fingers draw away. He puts a hand to his eyes and opens them slowly, before his fingers press at their lids and rub in circles for a few seconds. And then slowly, slowly, they open and he is met with the saddest blue eyes he'd ever seen. But, in true Sarah Walker form, her face is a delicate mask, poised to hide the tumultuous emotions beneath. The memories of the night before come rushing back, playing in front of him just like any other flash he'd experienced. The wedding, their dance. His father (where was he?), the new Intersect, Bryce, kung fu, oh my god.

Oh, Bryce.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice is clinical and maternal all at once, tender and detached. He swallows hard as he takes a shaky breath and attempts to shake his head. That is met with a wince as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again. Her eyes dart over him and he imagines she is scanning him like a robot, taking in every injury, cataloguing and analyzing to give the best response.

Then there is a sick feeling when he realizes that is something the Intersect can do.

Sarah doesn't speak as she moves from the bed, clad in one of his tees (black, with silk screened numbers and symbols running in columns along the front, the words "The Matrix" running through the middle - she'd chosen it for irony's sake) and her blue cotton panties, padding silently from his room. His mind is in a panic now, wondering where she is going, oh god what if someone sees her, before he realizes. Awesome and Ellie are on their honeymoon. The apartment is empty, and/or his father is asleep. He lets out a long sigh before a grunt of pain follows and it isn't long before Sarah arrives with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. She pauses, biting her lower lip apprehensively before setting the water and pills down at the bedside table and coming over to the side that doesn't have the melted ice pack and bandage at the shoulder.

"Can you sit up?" She asks gently, and Chuck puffs out his cheeks as he considers the idea, letting out a long breath of air in response.

"I can try... maybe. " He says and even his voice and throat feel like a knife had been shoved down there. He briefly remembers the guttural attack cries he'd made during the fight and closes his eyes as if refusing the memory. No, he needs to sit up, and focuses his energy on that. Planting his hands firmly on the mattress, he moves to push himself up, his shoulder protesting in blazing agony. He groans as his head falls backward, panting at the exertion.

Again, her fingers are at his forehead, pushing away hair as her other hand eases beneath him. "I'll help. One more time, okay?"

He nods feebly before sucking in a breath of air, shutting his eyes and trying to lift himself, finding it easier when he feels the sure push of her palm on his back, wary of the injured shoulder. It takes a minute but he is finally up to a sitting position, leaned carefully against the headboard of his bed.

"Dear _god_," he groans, a hand pressing to his eyes once more. Sarah doesn't smile, she waits for a second before going back around to her side of the bed, retrieving the glass of water and the bottle of painkillers. She peruses the label absently before negotiating the cap.

"Can you hold the glass, Chuck?" She asks and he sighs, opening his eyes and glancing at the water. Cool, refreshing water, liquid of the gods, bringer of relief, he hopes against hope that his hands will cooperate. Against every instinct, every thought telling him not to move his arm, he attempts to lift it, of course his right arm, the injured shoulder, only to yelp softly in pain. His arm falls limply to his side and he tries to take it with the left hand. This hand is more successful and he can hold it, if her fingers linger near the bottom and guide it carefully. Sarah shakes out three of the blue pills into her palm.

"Open." She instructs and he obeys, opening his mouth, all at once embarrassed by his plight. One incredible act of idiocy and he is an invalid in front of super-spy Sarah Walker. It's bad enough that she has to help him sit up and make sure he doesn't spill water all over himself, but to have to feed him pills as well? If his cheeks weren't flushed from the exertion of sitting up, they would be from sheer embarrassment. Sarah is grateful for the distraction, though she does not show it. She will gladly nurse Chuck back to health while his doctor sister and surgeon brother in law are away, avoiding questions, giving her mind something to do. Keeping her from growing restless and her mind drifting. No, she refuses to acknowledge anything that does not concern Chuck's health at this precise moment. She is careful putting the pills in his mouth and he immediately chases them with water, wincing as he swallows. But every gulp of water is ambrosia, golden nectar, every huge drink that pours down his throat revitalizes him just a bit more and when he returns the cup to Sarah, it is empty.

"What- what did I just take." His brows furrow as he swallows once more and Sarah replaces the cap on the bottle as she moves back around to set it at the nightstand.

"Naproxen. An anti-inflammatory for your shoulder and painkiller for everything else. You'll be fine, Chuck, if a little woozy." She explains, climbing back into bed next to him, fingers moving towards the damp bandage. She doesn't explain as she begins to unwrap the Ace bandage, gingerly lifting his arm to allow easier unwinding. He watches her carefully, long fingers moving with precision, determination, unyielding in their quest for healing. She sets the bandage and watery ice pack aside, fingers ghosting over the red shoulder. It is bruised, but the swelling has gone down considerably and she very lightly touches the purple and green bruise bloomed beneath the skin. Chuck winces, sharply sucking in air and she looks up, concern and apology etched on her face. "Sorry, sorry," she breathes and shifts to sit back on her heels.

For the second time this morning their eyes meet and they both let out a slow breath of air. The silence between them is full, hearts pounding, words forming and hanging in the air, unsaid. Chuck shifts, reaching over with his good arm to brush his fingers along her bare arm gently. She shivers as goosebumps rise and breaks their gaze, sighing once more.

"Thank you, you know, for-- for taking care of me." He breathes and she nods silently.

"It's my job." She says softly and his brows knit together, head tilting as she breaks their stare.

"Is it?"

Her head immediately snaps up, brows furrowed in a look of almost anger. Almost. Indignation is what colors her face, he realizes, but he waits as she sets her jaw tight, clenching her teeth. She seems to pick the words one by one.

"Of course it is." She says, her voice level, although none of her indignation colors her tone. It's the disappointed exasperation a parent would use when speaking to a child who had heard the same excuse everyday. "You're the Intersect."

Chuck's hand moves from her arm, gripping her wrist gently, thumb moving over the strong bones there in gentle circles. Their gazes move to what is happening and he licks his lips absently, opening and closing his mouth. The gears are turning as he picks his words and he swallows down a gulp of air before diving in.

"Bryce before... before-- he said you weren't going to go with him."

Sarah's head shoots up and he feels the slightest tremor beneath his palm and thumb. He is lazy, taking his time in meeting her gaze as her cheeks redden. She is silent, his grip tightens, ever so slightly tugging her closer to him. She doesn't fight. "Was it true? Sarah."

Her hand moves slowly, unsure, before resting on his jaw lightly, thumb moving over his cheekbone. He leans into her hand slightly, eyes not wavering from hers. She is the one that breaks the stare as she takes a deep breath.

"I said I don't want to save the world." She whispers and his brows furrow before he remembers. Their slow dance, hands grasping each other, cheek pressed to cheek. Just before his father came in and had to ruin everything. It would not be the first time that Chuck curses Steven Bartowski's timing. His breath catches in his throat and he reaches up, taking her hand from his face, drawing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on the back of her hand.

"What were you-- when my dad interrupted us, what were you going to say?" He breathes and her cheeks redden as her knees grow increasingly interesting. Chuck squeezes her hand lightly, silently urging her as the words bubble up and catch in her throat, the courage she had found in his grasp last night so foreign now. One deep breath is all it takes for her to open her mouth.

"I want it all, too, Chuck. I want," she stops herself, bringing her eyes to meet his, glassy and wet at the edges. She sighs, wiping at her eyes furiously, angrily swiping at the tears there, her eyes that had betrayed her. Now he brings his hand to her cheek, wiping a stray before cupping her face. "I want a real life." She whispers and he sighs heavily, looking down at the sheets still around himself.

"And now?" His voice is soft, but not hiding any of the emotion, shaky and hesitant. He doesn't look up and she doesn't encourage him too. She swallows hard, stiffening in his grip and his fingers twitch against her cheek. She waits, pausing to look around, warily glancing around the room, to spots where she knew she had hidden bugs. Where Casey had hidden bugs. She remembered in that second, that moment that oh. They had been leaving. Operation Bartowski was over.

That meant no more bugs in Chuck's room.

This realization is like her hand beneath his back earlier, gently urging her onwards. A sure, strong point in his case, his eyes pleading for some sort of explanation. Come on, Sarah, give me something. Anything.

"You having the new Intersect doesn't change what I want, Chuck." She says, her fingers beneath his chin to coax his eyes to meet hers. "The only thing that changes now... is how we go about getting what we want." Her gaze is no longer watery and his is no longer sad, there is sureness in both the brown and the blue locked in each other.

Slowly, a smile creeps along Chuck's face. The kind of smile that starts crooked, one corner turning up more than the other that finds Sarah's lips just as easily, the kind of smile she'd never been able to resist. He presses his forehead to hers lightly and with no words, they find peace in each other. Her hand moves, cupping his chin as she moves her lips against his, chaste and delicate. This is not the feverish kiss of before, of imminent death or under the eye of a teacher. This is a kiss of the morning, of their peace in the silence. He leans forward, urging for more and she pulls away slowly, kissing his top lip and the tip of his nose.

"Chuck," she breathes and his eyes flutter open. Sarah sighs, her hand still at his chin, but the ghost of her smile still lingers on her face. "We're not going to figure out everything in this one morning. It'll take some time to-- find what we can make work." She pauses, her eyes flickering back to his lips for a second, downcast before meeting his once more. "I'm going to need the time. But you know I-- I'm always yours."

The words come out softly, like the ending of a prayer. His head shifts softly before he moves his whole body, holding his breath and letting out a soft grunt of pain. But he shifts closer to her, both hands coming up to hold her cheeks, pulling away to look her fully in the eyes.

"I can deal with that. I know, I know that I was the one that screwed it up for us, but I-- I'm willing, more than willing, to do whatever I can to make it work." There is a firmness in his voice she had only heard sparingly. Barely more than once, more than the time at the fountain, when he'd said with such conviction that he was going to get that thing out of his head and be with the girl that he loves. And Sarah smiles, bringing her lips to his again, a sweet punctuation to the statement.

"One mission at a time, Chuck."


End file.
